Chapter 7
EVERYTHING ABOUT HIM WAS SHARP. The cheekbones, the jaw, even the bold green of his eyes—and the glint in them.
He’d come in on a kick of wind that had the simmering peat fire giving a quick snap.
As they had with Connor, several people hailed him. But Connor had been greeted with easy and affectionate warmth. Finbar Burke’s welcome was edged with respect and, Iona thought, a little caution and wariness.
He wore a black leather coat that skimmed to his knees. Rain, which must have started while she’d been cozy and warm, beaded on it, and on his sweep of black hair.
Cautious herself, Iona skimmed her gaze toward Branna. Nothing showed on her cousin’s face now, as if that momentary swirl of emotion had been nothing more than illusion.
Fin wound through the crowd and, as Branna had with Meara, laid a hand on Boyle’s shoulder, and on Connor’s. But his gaze, Iona noted, fixed on Branna.
“Don’t let me interrupt.”
“And there he is, home from the wars at last.” Connor sent him a cheeky grin. “And just in time to stand the next round.”
“Some of us have to work tomorrow,” Branna reminded her brother.
“Sure it’s fortunate my boss is an understanding and generous sort of man. Unlike yours,” Connor added with a wink for Branna, “who’s a tyrant for certain.”
“I’ll stand the round,” Fin said. “Good evening to you, Meara, and how’s your mother faring? I got word she was feeling poorly,” he said when she blinked at him.
“She’s better, thanks. Just a bout of bronchitis that lingered awhile. The doctor dosed her with medicine, and Branna with soup, so she’s well again.”
“It’s good to hear it.”
“You brought the rain,” Boyle commented.
“Apparently. And Branna. You look more than well.”
“I’m well enough. You cut your travels short then?”
“Six weeks was long enough. Did you miss me?”
“No. Not a bit.”
He smiled at her, quick and again sharp, then turned those vivid eyes on Iona. “You’d be the American cousin. Iona, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Fin Burke,” he said and extended a hand over the table. “As this lot doesn’t have the manners for introductions.”
She took his hand automatically, and felt the heat, a quick zip of power. Still smiling, he cocked an eyebrow as if to say: What were you expecting?
“Another Guinness for you?” he asked.
“Oh, no. Despite understanding and generous bosses, this is my limit. Thanks anyway.”
“I wouldn’t mind some tea before I head out in the rain,” Meara said. “Thanks, Fin.”
“Tea then. Another pint, Boyle?”
“I’m in my truck, so this will have to do me.”
“I’m on my feet,” Connor said, “so I’ll have another.”
“Sure I’ll join you.” Fin had barely glanced around when their waitress hurried up. “Hello there, Clare. The ladies, they’ll have tea. Connor and I will have a pint. Guinness tonight.”
He found a chair, pulled it up. “We won’t bring business into the party,” he said to Boyle. “We’ll talk later in that area, though I think we’ve kept each other up to date. And you as well, Connor.”
“Suits me. I took Merlin out a few times while you were rambling, as did Meara,” Connor told him. “And he took himself out when he wanted. Will you be coming by the school tomorrow?”
“I’ll make a point of it, and the stables.”
“Make sure you have a kind word for Kevin and Mooney.” Boyle lifted his beer. “As your newest acquisition battered both of them.”
“Got spirit, he does, and an iron will. Has he battered you as well?”
“Not for lack of trying. He likes this one.” Boyle nodded toward Iona.
Locking eyes with Iona again, Fin tapped his fingers on the table as if to an inner tune. “Does he now.”
“After doing his damnedest to buck me across to Galway, the Yank here mounts him and takes him around the ring like a show horse.”
Fin smiled slowly. “Is that a fact? Are you a horsewoman then, Iona?”
“It is, and she is,” Boyle answered. “She’s now in our employ, which I’m keeping you up to date with in person.”
“Happy to have you. A working holiday for you, is it?”
“I . . . I’m going to live here. That is, I’m living here now.”
“Well then, welcome home. Your grandmother’s well, I hope. Mrs. O’Connor?”
“Very. Thanks.” To keep them still, Iona clutched her hands together under the table. “I needed a job, so Branna asked Boyle to meet with me. I worked at Laurel Riding Academy in Maryland. I have references, and my resume. That is, Boyle has them now, if you need to see them.”
Shut up, shut up, she ordered herself, but nerves overwhelmed her.
“You have a wonderful operation. Meara showed me around. And you’re right.
Alastar has spirit, and a strong will, but he’s not mean.
Not innately. He’s just mad and unsettled, finding himself in a strange place, with people and horses he’s not used to.
Now he has something to prove, especially to Boyle.
“Thank God,” she breathed when the tea arrived. She could use it to stop her mouth.
“You make her nervous.” Amused now, Branna spoke to Fin. “She tends to chatter on when she’s nervous.”
“I do. Sorry.”
“And apologizes continually. That really has to stop, Iona.”
“It does. Why did you buy him—Alastar?” she began. Then held up a hand. “Sorry. None of my business. Plus you said you didn’t want to talk business.”
“He’s beautiful. I have a weakness for beauty, and strength, and . . . power.”
“He’s all that,” Meara agreed. “And anyone who knows bloody anything about horses knows he’s not meant to plod around with tourists on his back every day.”
“No, he’s meant for other things.” He looked at Branna. “Needed for other things.”
“What are you about?” she murmured.
“He spoke to me. You understand me,” he said to Iona.
“Yes. Yes.”
“So, he’s here, and on her way is the prettiest filly in the West Counties.
Spirited, too, a two-year-old, fine as a princess.
She’s Aine, for the faerie queen. We’ll be playing matchmaker there, Boyle, when she’s mature enough.
Until she is, she’ll do well on the jump course, even, I think, with novices. ”
“You’ve more than breeding on your mind.” Branna nudged her tea aside.
“Ah, darling, breeding’s ever on it.”
“You knew she’d come, and what it would mean. It’s already begun.”
“We’ll talk about it.” Fin laid a hand over Branna’s on the table. “But not in the pub.”
“No, not in the pub.” She drew her hand from under his. “You know more than you say, and I’ll want the truth of it.”
Irritation simmered in his eyes. “I’ve never lied to you, mo chroi. Not in all our lives, and you know it. Even when a lie could have given me what I wanted most.”
“Leaving gaps is no different from a bold lie.” She pushed to her feet. “I’ve work yet. Boyle, use your truck to see Iona back to the hotel, would you? I won’t have her walking through the wood at night.”
“Oh, but—”
“I’ll see to it.” Boyle interrupted Iona’s protest smoothly. “Not to worry.”
“I’ll get that salve to you in the morning. And see you, Iona, tomorrow, after work. We’ve much more to do.”
“Well and hell.” Connor sighed, started to rise as Branna left.
“No, stay and finish your pint.” Meara rubbed at Connor’s arm as if to soothe even as she pushed back her chair. “I’ll go with her. It’s time I started home anyway. Thanks for the tea, Fin, and welcome back. I expect I’ll see the lot of you tomorrow.”
Grabbing her jacket, Meara dragged it on as she hurried out of the pub.
Connor patted Iona’s arm. “You’ll need to get used to that.”
“That’s God’s truth,” Fin muttered, then very deliberately eased back, smiled. “I tend to put our Branna in difficult moods. So tell us, Iona from America, what is it you’ve seen and done in Ireland?”
“I . . .” How could they just pick up the small talk when the air actively pulsed with temper and heartbreak?
“Ah . . . not very much. And a lot, I guess. I came to meet Branna and Connor, and to find a place, to find work. Now I have. But I haven’t had time, yet, to see anything but here. It’s so beautiful, it’s enough.”
“We’ll have to get you out and about more than that. You say you found a place, to live you mean? That’s quick work.”
“I’m staying at Ashford for a few more days.”
“Now there’s a rare treat.”
“It really is. Then I’m going to live with Branna and Connor.” She saw his eyes flicker, narrow, shift quickly to Connor. “Is that a problem?”
In answer, Fin leaned over the table, kept those eyes focused on her face. “She knew you. She reaches out to many, but holds precious few. Home is sanctuary. If hers is yours, she knew you. Have a care with them,” he murmured to Connor. “By all the gods.”
“Don’t doubt it.”
“Speaking of gaps.” Frustrated, Iona looked from one man to the other, and to Boyle who sat, saying nothing at all. She’d get nothing out of any of them, not there and then. “I should go. Thanks for dinner, Connor, and for the tea, Fin. You don’t have to drive me back to the hotel, Boyle.”
“She’ll skin my arse if I don’t, and it could be literal. I’ll see you back at home,” he said to Fin.
“I’ll be coming along shortly.”
Stuck, Iona walked to the door. She took one glance back, caught a glimpse of Fin brooding into his pint, and Connor leaning over the table, talking quick and low.
She stepped out into windy rain, and found herself grateful after all for the ride.
“You and Fin live together?”
“I keep my place over the garage, and make use of his house when I’ve a mind to, as he’s out as much as in. It’s handy for both of us, living there near the big stables.”
He opened the door of an old truck with faded red paint, and reaching in, shoved at the clutter on the seat. “Sorry about that. I wasn’t expecting a passenger.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s a relief to see someone’s as messy as I am.”
“If that’s the way of it, take a warning. Hide and confine your debris. Branna’s orderly, and she’ll hound you like a dog if you leave things flung about.”
“So noted.”
She boosted up, slid in among clipboards, wrappers, an old towel, rags, and a shallow cardboard box holding hoof picks, bridle rings, a couple of batteries, and a screwdriver.